


guest room

by kitseybarbours



Series: it don't mean a thing [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Swing Kids (1993)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, First Time, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitseybarbours/pseuds/kitseybarbours
Summary: They have not always shared Hux's bed.





	guest room

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short prequel to [it don't mean a thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9874790/chapters/22151201), set three months before it begins. However, it can totally be read on its own; some of the heavy-handed foreshadowing might get lost, but that's all. ;)
> 
> Title from [Guest Room](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5iXSBQKh2A) by the National. If you listen to only one song while thinking about these sweet, sad children and the fate that awaits them, let it be this one.

*

They have not always shared Hux’s bed.

It is late November, 1938: the week after Ben’s eighteenth birthday, nearly two months after their first kiss. Ben has begun to spend the night at Hux’s house more often — citing schoolwork, the increased pressures of their final year — and he is put up in one of the manor’s immaculate guest rooms, which are kept ready for Dr Hux’s colleagues or Claudia’s family and friends, should they chance to drop in from Dresden or Berlin.

Ben and Hux stay up late in Hux’s room, homework quickly finished and abandoned for sweeter pursuits: both of them eager but still so shy, learning what they want and what to do. But eventually comes the knock at the door when Elena goes to bed, reminding the boys sharply through the door that Hux’s parents are asleep and that they should be quiet now, and perhaps Master Solberg should make his way to his own room, for they have school the next morning.

So Ben does. He straightens his clothes and bids Hux goodnight; smiles a sorrowful smile at him and closes the bedroom door behind him, and pads through the grand empty halls to the room made up for him, a pair of fresh pyjamas folded on the pillow. He changes, and washes his face and brushes his teeth in the guest bathroom, and then turns out his bedroom light. He can no longer hear Elena’s footfalls downstairs; she has gone to bed. Hux’s light is out, too.

Ben sighs. He shifts in the great guest bed, thrice as large as his own back home. He thinks longingly of Hux, of their interrupted pleasures; his cock stirs, and he moves his hand between his legs.

He has hardly made two strokes when there is a light rap at the door. Ben freezes, caught-out — and then, a whisper: “Ben. It’s me.”

Ben pulls up his trousers, scrambles from the bed, and goes to let Hux in, a smile spreading across his face. “Hi,” he whispers, his heartbeat picking up as he shuts the door behind him, cocooning the two of them in darkness. In reply Hux kisses him, his hands coming up to twine through Ben’s hair. There is an insistence in his movements, in his mouth, that hadn’t been there earlier, and Ben gasps, responding to it at once.

“Cruel,” Hux murmurs, once they have made their way, stumbling, back onto the bed, Hux straddling Ben’s hips. “It was cruel of her to come in, just then,” he says, reaching to unbutton Ben’s pyjama shirt; and it was.

Hux had been experimenting, kissing all down Ben’s neck to his chest, reaching inside his shirt to take his nipples between his fingers and then his lips, smiling in satisfaction when they hardened prettily for him. He’d kissed further down, lower and lower, nudging Ben’s trousers out of the way to mouth at his stomach, just above his cock. Ben had been reduced to whimpers, nearly crying out with the graze of teeth on sensitive skin…and then had come Elena’s knock.

But Hux resumes, now, from where he left off. He bows his head to Ben’s bared chest, and he nips and sucks and licks, and Ben cannot contain his exclamation: “Hux,” he gasps. _“Oh._ More.”

“Shh, Ben,” Hux reprimands him, capturing his mouth in a kiss. “Careful.”

Ben moans through clenched teeth as Hux bends back to his ministrations, fitting his lips over the curve of Ben’s clavicle and beginning, gently, to suck.

“Lower!” Ben protests, batting at him. “It’ll show.”

Hux’s smile gleams in the dark. “I don’t care.”

Ben groans and throws his head back to let him do as he pleases. _It’ll snow soon. Scarves._ He imagines the skin reddening under Hux’s lips, his teeth; imagines the marks he’ll have next morning, proof of this. _Of us._ He shudders.

Hux lifts his head from Ben’s collarbone and looks with satisfaction at his work: one round, pretty bruise on each side of his jugular notch. “There,” Hux murmurs, and Ben has never seen his eyes like this before, like a predator’s or a king’s. “All mine.”

Ben’s heart flutters. “Do you mean that, Hux?” he demands, fighting to keep quiet as Hux’s fingers trace down his chest and stomach, slowly. He fidgets, arches, finally grabs his hand and forces him to look at him: “Do you?”

In answer, Hux kisses him, hard. “Yes.”

Ben writhes. “Hux, I want — I want you to touch me.” He cannot find the words to say how, to say where. _All over. Forever._

Hux draws back, and looks at him, suddenly serious again. “Ben,” he says, hesitant, “do you want…can I…” He swallows. “Can I — fuck you?” he asks softly, the word foreign and obscene on his tongue.

It sends liquid heat shooting through Ben’s veins, that forbidden and dangerous word. He shivers all over at the sound of it. “It’s against the law,” he whispers, unthinking, even as his heartbeat picks up inside his chest: _Yes. Yes. Yes._ “It’s not allowed.”

“Nor is anything else we’ve been doing,” Hux reminds him, eyebrows arching. He is unbuttoning his shirt with quick deft movements, wriggling from his trousers and drawers until he is naked, pale and lovely in the dark. “I read Klare’s book, you know — and Himmler did too. Even _thinking_ about this, about what we’re doing here” — and he draws a finger, maddeningly lightly, down Ben’s chest all the way to his cock — “is a crime.” He presses a hard demanding kiss to Ben’s mouth, leaving him gasping when he pulls away. _“Verboten,”_ he whispers, a dangerous smile on his lips. “All of this.”

“I don’t care,” Ben blurts out, writhing under Hux’s taunting touch: it is too much and not enough. “I want it, Hux, I want you, I don’t care —  _oh —”_   His words turn to a moan as Hux slides Ben’s pajama pants down his hips, grasps his cock, strokes it firmly. “Please,” Ben whispers, reckless, not caring if he damns himself a thousand times over, in the eyes of the law or the gods. “Fuck me, Hux.” The word is daring, defiant. “I don’t — I don’t care what they say.”

Hux exhales, reverent. “You’re sure?” His eyes are bright and hungry in the dark.

“I’m sure.”

Hux kisses him again. “Wait here.”

The guest room has a bathroom attached, a luxury Ben had never known existed before staying at the Huxes’ the first time. Hux slides from the bed and disappears into the adjoining room. He does not turn a light on, but Ben — waiting, breathing shallowly — hears him fumbling around, opening drawers. His confidence astounds Ben. Although he knows Hux has been with no one else, he knows that he _knows_ things — and Ben knows, too, that he trusts him. _It’s Hux. He’d never hurt me._

Hux returns moments later, clutching a container of something; when he gets back into bed, Ben recognises it as petroleum jelly. Ben almost blushes: after tonight, he already knows, he will never look at the jar of it in their bathroom at home the same way…

“What should I do?” he asks, content to put himself entirely in Hux’s hands.

“Here,” Hux says, scooting up the bed and directing Ben down it, so sure of himself. “You go there, and I’ll sit here — there, like that.” He sits against the headboard, propping a pillow behind his back. “Here — your fingers,” he requests, a little breathlessly.

Hesitating only slightly, Ben proffers one hand. With assured care Hux folds down three fingers, and lifts the other two to his lips; he opens his mouth and takes them inside it, sucking deeply, almost tenderly. Ben whimpers at the sight: Hux with his eyes closed, his lashes golden against his cheeks and his full lips moving around Ben’s sensitive fingertips. His mouth is warm and wet.

After a moment Hux withdraws Ben’s fingers from his mouth. They and his lips shine wet with spit. Then he reaches for the jelly, opens the lid, and scoops some onto his own fingers to coat Ben’s. “There,” he says. “Do you think — can you…open yourself?” Hux requests, fumbling for the right words.

At this a blush heats Ben’s cheeks — but he nods. He has done so before, in fact, if only once, and inexpertly: in the shower, alone, when his mother and Rey were out at the market one Saturday.

He’d risen late and proceeded languidly to the bathroom, unhurried and pleasantly aware of the possibilities open to him in an empty apartment. This had been before his and Hux’s confessions, but close enough to them that Ben’s feelings had been growing impossible to ignore; several times already he had woken panting in the middle of the night, a wet patch in his pyjama bottoms and a flash of red hair behind his eyes, Hux’s low laugh in his ears. Once or twice, late at night when he was sure Rey was sleeping, he’d even ventured so far as to take himself in hand and imagine Hux, deliberately, biting his fist when he came and falling asleep with his guilty heart thudding.

In the shower that Saturday, when his cock stirred lazily to life, it was with a sense of inevitability that he wrapped one hand round it, and began to imagine it was Hux’s touch on his skin. And from there, safe in the knowledge that he was alone, not content with only a hand on his cock, Ben slicked his fingers up with spit and began to gently probe between his cheeks.

He’d managed one finger, then, before he came with a shout, his other hand moving furiously on his swollen cock. Tonight, though, he kicks off his trousers, spreads his legs, and presses the first finger in — he winces, at first, but the lubrication makes it easier. Tentatively, he tries a second, and with a rough exhale succeeds, pressing them both in and squirming around the intrusion.

Hux watches him with his lips parted, hardly daring to breathe. “Look at you, Ben,” he whispers, enraptured. “Have you done this before?”

Ben nods tightly, distracted by the stretch, trying to ease himself open further. “Once,” he pants. He colours more deeply as he says, daring, “I thought of you.”

Hux’s eyes widen, and he sucks in a quivering breath. _“Oh,”_ he exhales. A shiver runs through him, visible. _“Oh,_ Ben.” The hunger in his face seems to intensify; he swipes his fingers through the jelly again and grabs for his own cock, strokes it quick, hard, rubbing lubricant and his own wetness from the tip all down the shaft. “Let me,” he nearly begs. “Let me — I want to be inside you.”

The words spill almost naturally from his lips. Ben moans under his breath. Carefully he withdraws his fingers, gasping, and asks, “How? How do you want me?”

“Come here,” Hux replies immediately. He motions to his lap, to his cock standing at attention. “Straddle me.”

Ben crawls to him. He plants his knees on either side of Hux’s thighs, and pauses there. They are each breathing shallowly, their eyes fixed on each other’s; they are aware that they are about to cross a line, to reach a point of no return. Hux looks at Ben with a question in his eyes — one final confirmation — and Ben nods, definitively.

He rises up on his knees and scoots forward to straddle Hux’s hips. He reaches out to grip Hux’s shoulder with one hand; Hux’s hands go to his waist to guide him.

“Ready?” Hux asks him. In answer, Ben lowers himself onto Hux’s cock.

They gasp in unison as Hux enters him. His cock fits snugly inside of Ben; it’s slimmer, smaller than Ben’s own, and does not hurt as much as he’d feared, as it stretches him ever-so-slightly further. He sinks slowly down to take it all inside, sitting on Hux’s lap, and when he has done so — feeling _full_ in a way he has never felt before — he pauses again.

“Is this all right?” Ben asks, barely forcing the words out, concentrating as he is.

Hux nods. “Yes,” he replies, his voice ragged. His eyes are glassy with pleasure. _“Oh —_ yes. You’re so — tight, Ben, so tight and so _hot — oh!”_

He gives a delicious shudder as Ben, tentatively, rises up on his cock, his thighs trembling, and then lowers himself down again. In response, Hux thrusts into him, and Ben gives a small pained gasp.

“Does that hurt?” Hux asks immediately, stilling, seeing Ben’s face tight with effort.

Ben nods. “Yes,” he forces out, overwhelmed with sensation, struggling to maintain focus. “Yes — a little. But don’t stop,” he insists. “Don’t stop.”

Hux gives another thrust. This time it’s easier: Ben exhales, tries to relax. Slowly, they fall into a rhythm, Ben fucking himself on Hux’s cock as Hux thrusts into him, each of them moaning softly from time to time.

 _I don’t care if it’s wrong,_ Ben thinks, his eyes fluttering shut as Hux hits some sweet spot inside him, causing him to clench tighter still around him, a gasp escaping his lips. _I don’t care what they’d do if they ever found out. This is worth it;_ he _is worth it. Worth anything._

He can feel his climax building, and can tell that Hux must be close too, from the way he is breathing, the look in his eyes. “Hux,” Ben whispers, “I’m going to — going to come, soon,” and Hux grips his hips tighter and urges him, “Wait — let me, first — inside you.”

Ben struggles with all his might to keep from giving in. With one last thrust, Ben’s body tight around him, Hux gives a desperate gasp; his hips jerk, he whispers _“Ben”_ low and harsh in his throat, and he is coming, inside of Ben, his face transfigured by rapture. His body shakes and arches and Ben can feel him filling him.

The sight — the _feeling —_ together are nearly enough to push him over the edge; but then Hux’s eyes open and, determined, he reaches to take Ben’s cock in his hand. Ben nearly shouts — his hands dig automatically into Hux’s shoulders, and he stifles a cry of Hux’s name as he spills himself over his hand, his hips bucking in a helpless rhythm. The sensation, Hux’s hand warm on his skin, is too much; he pitches forward, his head landing on Hux’s shoulder as the aftershocks pulse through him. He is trembling all over.

Hux holds him, wraps his arms around him and whispers sweet words in his ear. “So good, Ben, so lovely when you came; oh, you felt so good, and all for me….”

Ben shivers in his arms and clutches him tightly, never wanting to let go. He exhales: they breathe together.

Eventually they begin to get uncomfortable, aware of the cooling mess on their skin, their limbs aching from the awkward position in which they’ve found themselves. Carefully, Hux pulls out of Ben, making him gasp sharply, still tender; and then Hux goes again to the bathroom to stow the jelly away, and brings back damp flannels with which to clean themselves. They dress again in their pyjamas, in silence all the while, unwilling to speak through all this as if to break a spell.

Finally, though, Hux says softly, “I should go.”

Ben wants nothing more than to keep him here, to fall asleep in his arms and perhaps to wake to his touch in the morning, the locked door keeping the real world at bay; but he knows they can’t. _School tomorrow, and Elena will come to wake him. What hell would break loose if she found him gone from his bed…_ “Yes,” he agrees sadly, in a whisper, and reaches for one last kiss.

When they break apart Hux is looking at him with a raw kind of tenderness that Ben has never seen before. It nearly takes his breath away.

“Thank you,” Hux whispers, hesitant, struggling to find the words. “As soon as I knew that — that I wanted this at all — I knew I wanted it with you.”

The revelation is dizzying, all the more because it rings bone-true for Ben himself. He nods, deadly solemn, and says, “Me too.” He takes a deep breath, and gives voice to his earlier thoughts: “I don’t care,” he says quietly. “I don’t care what might — what might happen. What they might do.”

Hux understands. “Nothing will change this,” he whispers, taking up Ben’s hand with an urgency, an intense affection that is unfamiliar and brave. “Nothing. I promise.” He kisses him, to prolong this spell they have woven for themselves, to draw this endless night out still further — but outside, the bells of St Markus’ chime one.

They draw back from one another reluctantly. Hux sighs: “I should go,” he says again.

Ben kisses him again, one last time. “Goodnight,” Hux murmurs, and goes to the door, slips into the darkened hallway.

“Goodnight,” Ben whispers back, smiling and sinking onto the pillows, pulling up the covers as Hux shuts the door so softly behind him. He has left his promise kissed onto Ben’s lips.

_Nothing will change this. Nothing._

*

**Author's Note:**

> The book Hux references is Nazi jurist Rudolf Klare's 1937 treatise _Homosexualität und Strafrecht_ [Homosexuality and Criminal Justice], which partly influenced Heinrich Himmler's laws against and punishment of queer individuals throughout the Nazi years. (Don't ask me how an eighteen-year-old kid got his hands on it, or smuggled it past his dad, okay? Hux has his ways.)
> 
> As ever, all my thanks to my dear [Gefionne](http://gefionne.tumblr.com) for beta-ing. You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://huxes.tumblr.com).


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